To Our Fathers
by avrilxiv
Summary: Post-DA2 oneshot, Alistair and Sebastian share a meal together, and discover that they've more in common than they originally thought. For a tumblr prompt, Sebastian/Alistair: fathers


"You know, Sebastian, I've got half a mind to try and work your cooks into this trade agreement." Alistair let out a deep sigh as he dropped into one of the plush, dark green chairs in the Vael library.

Sebastian chuckled and passed him a cut-crystal goblet filled halfway with a pale amber scotch. "Aye? And what would Starkhaven receive in return?"

Alistair accepted the drink readily and took a quick sip, the alcohol burning inside his nostrils before it passed his lips. "My shite cooks, naturally." He didn't make it a habit to curse in front of newly-fledged allies, least of all before any waxed seals had had time to set, but he had an inkling that Sebastian wouldn't mind.

Sebastian laughed again, and more heartily, as he sat in the chair to the right of Alistair. "I fear I may need to go over that proviso with my seneschal in the morning before I can agree, your majesty."

Alistair smiled as he tilted the goblet to his lips gain. The warmth of the scotch was pleasant and it tingled all the way through his arms and up to his head. It was a welcome follow-up to the rich meal they'd just shared. "You know, I have always found scotch to be more pleasing than wine."

"I would agree," Sebastian replied with a nod before sipping his own drink. "Though I hope our wine earlier was to your taste, all the same."

"Oh, of course, of course." It certainly had been – the perfect accompaniment to the roast venison and root vegetables and the savoury sauces. Alistair had to remind himself occasionally that while he may sometimes forget that he was royalty, he still was – as far as most others were concerned – and thus, he'd do well to mind his wording, wine or no.

"I've quite the collection of whiskeys, if you're interested."

Alistair nodded and stood, and followed Sebastian through the library and down a half-flight of stairs to a sort of part-sunken cellar. Sebastian unlocked the cabinet in front of him, and they were greeted with a cool, damp smell. Sebastian moved to the side and waved Alistair forward.

"Sample anything you like, your majesty," Sebastian said, gesturing to a series of miniature goblets at one end of the cabinet.

Alistair let out a short laugh as he reached for a bottle. "I'd hasten to guess that maybe I've imbibed enough for tonight."

"Nothing that a mid-night ration of Starkhaven fish pie wouldn't alleviate."

Alistair sniffed the contents of the bottle he was holding before recapping it and place it back on the shelf. "Ahh, yes… I can practically hear my father's laboured groan from beyond the Veil. I'm doing a wonderful job upholding the family name, raiding the kitchens and scotch cellars of Ferelden's allies."

Sebastian chuckled and leaned against the beam near his shoulder. "My father always spoke highly of King Maric, I should mention."

Alistair let out a dry scoff as he filled one of the small goblets with a particularly peaty scotch. He started to sip it slowly but soon gave up and drank it in one motion. "I'd wager that your father knew mine better than I did."

Sebastian didn't answer, and Alistair felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him, settling at the tips of his ears. He quickly put the bottle away and closed the cabinet, quite sure now that he'd had enough to drink for the rest of the evening.

"Aye…" Sebastian said finally, following Alistair back towards the front of the library. "Well, Alistair, I might wager the same myself, that King Maric knew my own father better than I."

Alistair collapsed back into the large chair he'd occupied earlier and looked at Sebastian as he slowly lowered himself into his own chair. He'd noticed the use of his first name, but it didn't bother him to hear it. He'd also noticed the frown that had taken root across Sebastian's face.

"I lived with my da – my father – my whole life, and I doubt I ever knew him so well."

Alistair looked down at his hands, and ran a thumb over a callous that somehow managed to remain on one of his fingers, despite the years since he'd picked up a sword in earnest. He glanced over at the goblet next to his chair and reached for it, holding it out towards Sebastian.

Sebastian saw the gesture and reached for his own goblet, mimicking Alistair.

"To our fathers, then," Alistair said, tapping the lip of his goblet to Sebastian's. They both took a deep sip of the scotch. "May we hope to forge as close an alliance ourselves."


End file.
